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A brow raises in response to the idiot Edge crawler mistaking me for a brute. My face contorts into an ugly expression, turning my slightly feminine features into a rock solid, angry facade that may have been worthy of mistaking me as a stallion. Otherwise, it appeared this nitwit had little experience around powerful women, and found himself unable to comprehend a lady sitting on a throne by herself. Whatever was wrong with blockheaded stallions and their stupid gender bias was beyond me. If you are going to be bias based on genitalia, at least choose the correct option.
Take me, for instance. I know that most stallions are so flooded with testosterone that their brain ceases to function. One cannot fault them for this affection - it is of their making.
Still, as my blue eyes stare fiercely out toward this stranger standing in my territory, I can't help but wonder where his brains have gone, leaving him deserted in the Throat all alone: easy prey. Before my words have clammored out of my throat to behead the blasted idiot, though, Azzuen's angered voice rings out with a snap of teeth. If the General had been a dog, his hackels would have been dangerously raised in warning. Instead, however, only his vehement eyes and poisonous words speak to this foreigner before me. My own demeanor lessens in rage, but there is still a hell of a beast coiled beneath the surface of my face.
Listening to the buffoon speak was hard for me, but as the currently sole leader of the herd, I felt the need to act with at least some semblence of tolerance - even if the receiver of said tolerance was not on my good side. He spoke of disturbances in weather patterns, but I knew not of what he was speaking. It was my first summer within Helovia, so I had assumed the baking hot sun was normal around this time of year. The whole excuse seemed fishy to me, and I had a hunch he was nothing but a dog creeping in our borders for information to return to his King. Pathetic.
Azzuen's words make me turn to face him, a smirk resting on my lips and softening my expression entirely. The boy had a funny way of speaking, but the humor of his words could not be denied. "Well, Doctor d'Artagnan of the World's Edge, there is nothing to explain the strange weather patterns residing within our borders. Perhaps you should seek out the Gods and annoy them for a while," my voice is quite belittling toward this unicorn, but what did he really expect? "Or you can return to bumbling around with the rest of your herd. Either way, get the hell out of our home."
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